A weird twist of Nature
by AmadErik
Summary: Leroux based prequel oneshot about Erik's first visit at a doctor's office.


Ah, that nasty cold hit me. I did not pay too much attention to it though, it will go away just as it came. For years, I haven't been sick, and I just hoped this minor case of the cold won't take too long to get rid of. Maybe I overstrained myself at the Opera lately? I had much work to do, for sure, the Opera itself, and all of the trap doors and secret corridors to make that weren't in the original plan… and Garnier and the staff sure did not need to know about them… it was maybe too much work for one person, but logically, Erik just can't ask a member of the team to help him build his twisted playground, can he? It is all for me. Surprisingly, I can handle noticeably less work a day than I was able to before in Persia or Turkey, yet these destinations of my life weren't too long time ago. Things go way slower nowadays. I am yet a young man as they count, I had no idea I get old so early. I am only 30 if I am correct... Maybe it is because of the life I led earlier? Without doubt, Erik had done everything possible to make his life shorter. I was literally beaten to half death, tortured, I had broken many bones by carelessness or simple idiocy of teenage years as I call it now, I was sick with all kinds of illnesses as a kid, and later I was poisoned, shot, stabbed, and thrown in water… Meh. I will try to go "home" to that apartment earlier to sleep or at least, rest some and feel better. I hate being sick, damn.

A week passed and the cold didn't go away, with all its mess and pain it was here to stay. Every time I sneezed, and oh, that happened way too much, I had to wash my face and it annoyed me to no end. Without a nose, having a cold is a torture… And not only that, but my head and throat hurt as well, no matter how much tea with honey I was trying to drink. I wanted to stay hydrated because dehydration would cause my throat hurt even more. I coughed and I was feeling weak. I couldn't recall the last time I felt so much under the weather. My voice was a mess, just as my whole life. The medicine I was trying to cure myself with helped very little or nothing at all. This had happened for the first time in my life. With my mind I knew I should see a doctor- but oh damn, the humiliation it would cause… I would have to show my face to him as I can't even open my mouth properly to show my damned throat to him without removing the mask or the false nose and beard. Where on Earth could I find a human being who won't get terrified or repulsed by my appearance? How could I expect one to react without disgust upon that sight if I can't do it either, especially if I am sick? My face looked even worse with an illness affecting it, I am sure. I just wanted to try my best to hang in there and wait till it finally goes away… it should, eventually.

The next day I was again at work, trying to concentrate on the task to finish and not on my miserable state of health. I was barely able to stand on my feet and was coughing nearly constantly which caused my side to hurt eventually. The cold weather at the construction did not help at all, and all my muscles were in pain by the time lunch break came. All the workers took a break but me. I never ate with them anyways because of my covered mouth, but that day I did not even have any appetite, and besides every single bite of food that slid down my burning throat felt like if I was swallowing razor blades. But the worst part was definitely the mess my runny nose caused. I always had to turn away and make sure no one was around to clean my nose and wipe the mess off of the false nose before putting it back on until the next time to clean it – which arrived too soon for my taste.

After another enormous sneeze, I leaned against some bricks and tried to remain unnoticed as I had to clean my nose again, yet this time I did not look behind my back and a tap on my shoulder nearly caused me to drop the false nose I was trying to wipe with my handkerchief. I hurriedly inserted it back and turned to see who was that idiot who did not leave me be. Oh, it was Garnier.

\- Erik, you seem to be ill. – He stated the obvious.

\- I am fine. – I managed to moan these words and wanted to end the conversation by turning back to the bricks and continue working.

\- I am afraid you are not. – He went on. – I think you should go home and rest.

If only that was that easy… I literally went home to sleep and change and sometimes to write music, however I had to admit I did neglect composing in those years. Building the Opera held first priority in my mind back then. The filthy street my rented apartment was at did not attract me to go there unless it was necessary. The filth, the noise, the smoke and those damned vagabonds or drunkards wandering and yelling around the streets weren't my favorites. How should someone be able to sleep and rest there?

\- I told you I was fine. – I repeated.

\- Erik, I word it differently then. – Garnier's tone changed to a stricter one, which was something I did not hear too often. – You can't stay here with such a nasty case of illness. You keep sneezing and you seem to have the chills, which indicates fever.

\- It is just it's cold here. – I wheezed.

\- Whatever, Erik, if you stay here with the flu or whatever your problem is, in two days or so, half of the workers are going to be missing with the same symptoms. That's something I can't have right now.

\- I am not missing either, I 'd work if you let me.

\- Not every worker is as crazy as you are. They won1t come if they are half as sick as you are. Besides, I worry about you. You are sick for over a week, I noticed your voice changed the week before last week, and it gets worse every day.

\- It will get better. – I shrugged.

\- It will, I am sure. But as you know, it is my responsibility no to run out of the terminal, and we definitely will if you make the workers sick.

\- They won't catch it, my mouth is always covered and no one ever touches me or stands near me if it isn't completely necessary. – I wanted to sound irritated and bitter, but all I could do was just whisper.

\- To be clear, Erik: you are not allowed to come back to work until you can prove your ability for work with a written medical certificate. And now, please go home and rest. And see a doctor as soon as possible.

I had no opportunity to argue any further with that dumb man as he called two workers to accompany me to the coach he already ordered to the corner of the street to take me home. Sadly I had to provide him a physical address to be able to work in the team, so they took me "home".

I was annoyed to find out that my window that faced the street and not the backside, was again broken by a rock thrown through it. Bravo. Now the rent will be more with the cost of it to be replaced, of course, only temporarily, until the little snots break it again. I bet those merciless little idiots are proud of themselves. They must have been one of the four or five kids of the neighbor's, a typical drunkard bourgeois with ill- mannered and foul – mouthed offsprings running around the street all day long. They didn't go to school, nor did they do anything productive other than smashing windows, calling me by various obscenities if we had the misfortune to meet, or spitting out of their window to any passer-by.

I felt miserable, and as I knew Garnier won't let me back to work unless I see a doctor, I had no urge to stay in the apartment with the broken window, in the cold, to get even sicker, so I just waved in frustration and left the apartment.

I was dragging myself along the narrow, dark and filthy streets to finally get back in downtown. I was in search of a doctor, any kind of doctor. Replaced the false nose and beard with my mask in a darker corner, so I won't have to wipe the prosthetic nose again, as I got fed up the constant mess it was in. I tiredly leaned my back against the wall behind me and closed my eyes for some seconds.

When I opened my eyes again, I wasn't in that corner of the street any more. I was laid on a couch which was covered with a white sheet, and the room had white walls. It wasn't my apartment, nor any other place I recognized. I tried to lift my head up, but I felt rather weak, so I just stayed in the position I was before. Some wet cloth was put on my forehead and one was twisted around my wrists. My shirt sleeves were rolled up and I did no longer wear my jacket. I let out an irritated sigh that was very soon followed by some nasty coughs.

\- Oh, did you wake up, Monsieur? – I heard an unknown voice from the corner of the room and a chair's squeaking as someone got up from it and footsteps were getting closer.

A man leaned above me to check on me, he was about my age, he had a creole-ish complexion, he wore glasses and his hair was dark and as messy as Garnier's. His clothing was untidy, his cravat was just put in his neck, untied and his shirt hadn't seen an ironer at least in weeks, but most likely never.

\- Who… are you? – I asked the only question that came to mind.

\- Doctor Alain Bonsanté, to your service, Monsieur. – He smiled.

He looked rather polite and trustworthy compared to his rather messy appearance. He bowed his head and asked me to stay as I was. As I had no strength to move anyway, I obeyed.

\- How did I get here? – I inquired again.

\- A passerby found you at that corner and ran in my office to alert me. I carried you in and instantly realized you were in need of quick assistance.

\- What is my illness?

\- It seems to be pneumonia, but I am not sure yet, I need to do some more tests. I am afraid you have to stay here for a few days. Is there someone I can notify about you are here?

\- No. – I sighed. – I live alone.

No one cares about my whereabouts and no one ever will. At least series of coincidences threw me in the arms of a doctor, someone I was looking for anyways. I seem to be in good hands, and maybe I will survive and can go back to work to the construction.

I was just about to close my eyes to fall asleep again, when a strange sensation hit me. I felt something wasn't right, something was unusual. I did not feel something I should have felt… what is that…? What should be on me that isn't? Then my mind got cleared. The mask. The mask was missing. I lay there completely uncovered, vulnerable and too weak to move. I made some miserable and desperate attempts to sit up, but my chest felt like it was under something very heavy. I was too worn out to run away or fight- I had to bear the helplessness and humiliation. But why was the doctor so calm and casual with me? Why did he even help me? Why didn't he turn pale or cry out in horror? He was talking to me as you would talk to anyone with a normal face. As someone would talk to a human being. I did not expect someone to talk to me this kindly, or at all, after seeing my face.

\- Doctor…? – I did not know if it was really necessary to humiliate myself any further, but I HAD to know what he thought of my face… his reaction, or to be clear, the lack of it made me clueless and confused.

\- Yes, Monsieur? Are you feeling ill? May I help you?

What a talkative and accommodating fellow! He surprised me.

\- Can you… see me? – This was really the stupidest question I have ever asked of someone in my whole life, but I felt lousy and I was confused, so this was the most I was capable of at that moment.

\- Yes, I can. – He nodded, examining my features with interest. – I did not want to talk about it, as I thought… I thought you would be hurt if I mentioned it.

\- Did you remove… the mask… or was it already missing?

\- I removed it to be able to examine you better. You don't have to be afraid or ashamed of anything.

\- Why did you help me after you saw my face?

\- I am a doctor. I help people no matter what. Your face is something you can do nothing about.

\- And… what do you think of… **_it_**?

A skull face, pale, with no nose and sunken yellow eyes was enough to make everyone else scream or vomit. But the doctor did not show disgust still.

\- I think your face is the most interesting thing I have ever seen in my whole life. Pardon me, but I admire your features… what a scientific rarity! What a…

\- Weird twist of Nature? – I finished his sentence.

\- Ummmm… yes. How did it happen… I mean… did you have surgery when your nose needed to be removed or…?

\- I was born this way. Without a nose and with this face.

\- Oh! What a weird genetic mutation. I wish I was allowed to examine it… you…

\- You may examine me if it gives you such a joy. – I shrugged. – You don't seem to be disgusted of me.

\- Not at all. – He pulled a chair closer to me, still spying on my face, every small details about it. It did not really bother me anymore. Either because I was too tired to care or because of he treated me like a human, I let him watch me all he wanted.

\- You see I was… in search of a doctor. – I closed my eyes. – If I ever need medical help… would you accept me as a patient in the future?

\- But of course! – He cannot help the excitement ringing in his baritone, but clearly untrained voice. – I would be honored to have you as a patient. I am sure, none of the doctors in Paris, or the whole world have such a fortune to meet such a unique deformity…

\- That's for sure. – I groaned, but found it a better idea not to get hurt or upset about this too much enthusiasm about my horrid features.

\- What is your name, Monsieur..? Just for the sake of listing you as my constant patient…?

\- Erik. – I replied softly.

\- Erik who?

\- Just Erik. – I moaned, half asleep.

\- I see. All right. Now rest, Erik. You are in need of it.

I felt so calm after this dialogue. However awkward it might have been, but it was needed and a necessary step in our relationship as a doctor and a patient, or well… as a human to human. Now I was finally able to close my eyes and sleep again. It was really a luck to find a doctor who not only accepted, but for weird scientific reasons, liked my face. At least I took a step closer to normalcy… having a family doctor of my own.


End file.
